


Just Tony and Me (And Quentin Makes Three)

by fyreyantics



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Cheating, Come Swallowing, Dacryphilia, Dom/sub, Humiliation, Light Bondage, M/M, Objectification, Orgasm Denial, Overstimulation, Punishment, Rough Sex, Size Kink, Size Queen Peter Parker, Threesome - M/M/M, Vibrators
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:54:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24994960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fyreyantics/pseuds/fyreyantics
Summary: Cheating isn't something Peter ever thought he'd do - especially when he's in a happy relationship with Tony. But everyone has a weakness, and Quentin isn't afraid to exploit it.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Tony Stark, Quentin Beck/Peter Parker, Quentin Beck/Peter Parker/Tony Stark
Comments: 17
Kudos: 84





	Just Tony and Me (And Quentin Makes Three)

Peter ran his fingers through his hair before picking up the folders strewn across the desk. If someone had told him how much paperwork would be involved in his job as an intern he would have reconsidered his options. He thought everything was supposed to be done on computers and kept in electronic records but it turns out even Stark Industries wasn't fully liberated from the tiring chore of filing.

Peter made his way to the filing cabinet and eyed over the sheets in one of the folders. He mumbled to himself as he flicked through each sheet before finally finding the right one. He slid it into the drawer of the cabinet carefully.

He nearly jumped when his phone started ringing.

Peter fumbled with the folders and papers, managing to clutch them to his chest as he fished out his phone from his pocket. He smiled when he saw who it was.

Taking the call, he brought the phone somewhat awkwardly to his ear, shoulder hunched.

"Hey, Tony."

"Hey. Just found out that next weekend I have to attend a meeting with some investors, blah blah blah - Pepper's really pulling my strings right now."

"Oh. So next weekend's off the table?"

"Yeah, you working late tonight? I've got the evening off, pretty much finished the upgrade on the suit, thought we could go, um...what's that sushi place you like? The one with the guy whose chopsticks I signed?"

Peter pursed his lips and frowned. He did love that sushi place.

"I can't. I've got extra reports to fill out."

There was a pause. 

"Oh, okay. No, that's fine. Just - tomorrow night? You can stay over."

Peter's heart lifted.

"Yeah. I'd love that."

"Great. Better let you get it all finished. See you, babe."

"Bye."

Peter hung up the phone and sighed. He really wished he didn't have to work so late. But at least he was going to go to Tony’s tomorrow.

He ambled his way through the next hour or so, filing documents, proofreading, fixing where documents had been filed incorrectly, before getting himself to the break room. After a hard day he liked to give himself a small treat. Kept right at the back of the cupboard - Peter had to tippytoe to get it - was a hidden box of hot chocolate. It was his alone.

Peter reached up to grab the box and took out a long satchet before shoving the box back in. Humming to himself, he emptied the packet into a plain mug. He filled up the electric kettle with water and flicked it on.

"Enough water for me?"

Peter turned round, startled.

Quentin had somehow snuck up behind him. He stood beside Peter, the small beginnings of a smile creeping onto his face. He was handsome, and his eyes an intriguing shade of pale blue. As usual, he wore a suit perfectly tailored for his body - the one thing marring his clean appearance was the slightly loosened blue tie.

Quentin worked in a different department to Peter, but they shared a common break room, and that was mostly where they met. He was taller than Peter, with pushed-back hair and a beard that Peter maybe found a little hot, and maybe once or twice thought about how it would graze sensually against his skin during certain unnamed situations. Quentin wasn't the only hot guy who worked at Stark Industries, but he was up there. He'd also given very clear signals of being interested in Peter before finding out Peter had a boyfriend and Peter couldn't help but find that flattering. Quentin had stopped his advances for the most part; emphasis on most.

Standing dumbly, Peter blinked twice before remembering Quentin had asked him something.

"Uh, yeah, should be enough," Peter responded, straightening up somewhat.

"Good."

His voice was like melted chocolate, smooth and delicious. Peter wet his lips.

"What are you having?" Peter asked, getting out another mug from the cupboard.

"Coffee." Quentin's gaze landed on the sachet on the countertop. "Hot chocolate?" 

Quentin grinned. Peter felt heat rise to his cheeks.

"What's wrong with that?" Peter said defensively.

"Nothing, nothing," Quentin replied with raised hands, in mock surrender, but his grin clearly showed his amusment.

In response, Peter shot him a dirty look.

They both set about readying their mugs for the water, standing idly beside each other once finished. A silence fell between them. Peter itched to break it.

"How's, uh, that project coming along?" Peter asked.

Quentin tilted his head. "Taking an interest in my work?"

"Just...we're waiting for the water to boil, so I asked."

Quentin took a moment before speaking.

"We're waiting for the green light for phase two. But it doesn't look like the higher ups are very motivated to even deal with it."

"Oh, why's that?" Peter asked as the kettle bubbled louder and louder.

"They don't see it as important. To them it's superfluous."

Quentin picked up a harsher tone than Peter was used to hearing.

Peter considered the two cups on the bench. 

"I think your work's good. It's really cool - how you can just make all of that appear. The whole uh, kind of virtual reality thing. I mean, I know it isn't like virtual reality because it is partly reality but you know," Peter gestured with his hands, now facing Quentin. "It's like...we could use for simulations and - and I know in our department it could help with things -"

"That's very kind of you to say."

Quentin inched a little closer. The kettle was dangerously close to boiling, and Peter flicked his gaze towards it, waiting to see the light disappear. When he looked back, Quentin was right there, his blue eyes trailing over Peter's face. Their eyes then met and something passed down Peter's spine - a tingle, but not entirely unpleasant.

"Quentin?" Peter asked weakly.

"The way you looked just now, the way you spoke - and you're already so...enticing."

His words fell unheeded. Peter was stuck, waiting. The kettle clicked in the background, but Peter didn't make a move to pick it up. Quentin drew in, so close, the heat of his body, the intoxicating smell of soft musk and crisp citrus -

"Peter."

The warmth of his breath on the shell of Peter's ear, the undisguised longing in Quentin's voice made Peter's breath catch in his throat. Quentin ducked his head, kissing down Peter's neck and bringing his body flush against Peter's. Peter knew he should stop him, but Quentin was intoxicating, hitting his senses like he was already glasses deep in strong heady wine.

Quentin nipped at Peter's earlobe and Peter's eyes fluttered half-shut at the sensation. It elicited a thinly disguised moan that took Peter by surprise.

"Fuck," Peter muttered, frustrated at how willingly his body was responding.

Quentin pressed himself closer, hands sweeping up Peter's sides and teasing the skin beneath. Peter rocked his hips forward for contact - and paused. His eyes trailed down to Quentin's crotch.

Peter swallowed thickly. 

Quentin was huge. The bulge in his pants easily covered the width of Quentin's thigh. Peter's gaze froze, and his own cock twitched with interest. 

"Bigger than what you're used to?" 

Peter glanced back up. Quentin bore a wicked smile, like he knew. Like he knew Peter's boyfriend was more or less average, and Peter really wanted something more - something larger and thicker that could fill him and stretch him until he could barely think, barely breathe - until he felt like he was going to break.

He knew he should defend Tony. Small or not, Tony could fuck better than anyone Peter had ever been with, but this....

Almost without thinking, Peter reached out tentatively and palmed along the bulge. He encircled it and stroked Quentin through his pants, biting his lip and trembling a little in anticipation.

"Do you want it?" Quentin asked in a low quiet voice.

"Yes," Peter said breathlessly.

He drew back his hand and tossed his shirt over his head, before meeting Quentin's lips in a feverish haste. Quentin froze, taken by surprise, before returning Peter's kiss with fervour. He was rough and demanding, and Peter gladly surrendered to let Quentin take what he wanted, delving his tongue past the seam of Peter's lips. They both undid their belts, pausing their kiss to slip their trousers off and underwear. When Peter finally saw Quentin's cock, bouncing free from its confines, he let out a hungry whine.

"You better fucking have lube," Peter told him. 

Quentin chuckled. "Of course."

Peter didn't question why he did. If this was premeditated. It didn't matter. He just watched impatiently as Quentin pulled a small bottle from his own blazer pocket with barely concealed desire.

"On the couch," Quentin said, tossing off his blazer and fully tugging loose his tie.

Peter immediately crouched down on the cushions, sticking his ass up in the air. He turned his head around enough to see Quentin's hungry gaze.

"Does Tony know you're this much of a slut?" Quentin asked evenly as he settled down behind Peter.

Peter bit back an unsteady moan.

"A slut who'll offer himself up so readily?" Quentin continued.

His warm hands smoothed over the swells of Peter's ass. He squeezed down on the supple flesh, Peter letting out a soft 'ah' at the sensation.

"God," Peter heard Quentin say in hushed wonder. "Tony is a lucky man to come home to this."

Peter wriggled his ass further towards Quentin.

"Hurry up," he whined impatiently.

The click of the bottle opening sent Peter's heart thudding in anticipation. Fingers pressed at his entrance seconds later, leaving Peter humming in pleasure. Quentin's finger breached past the tight ring of muscle with little difficulty. It didn't take much stretching until Peter could fit a second. A third quickly followed, Quentin fucking Peter and reaching deep to brush teasingly along his prostate.

Peter moaned wantonly.

"Mm, Quentin," he moaned, "put it in, please -"

Quentin huffed a laugh. "You need it this bad already?"

"Yes," Peter hissed, "Please..."

Fingers left Peter, leaving him empty. He felt the head of Quentin's cock against his hole. Dizzying excitement flooded through him.

Quentin entered slowly, pushing inside and leaving just the right amount of burn as it stretched Peter open. Peter let out a long low groan as Quentin's cock filled him. It was so fucking perfect. He felt so full already, like he was being stretched open, and Quentin just kept going. Peter gasped with each inch, shivering, trying to keep himself together.

"W-wait," Peter said part way through.

Quentin stopped.

"What is it?"

"Just - a moment."

Peter's breath trembled.

"How much is in?" he asked.

"Half," Quentin replied. "Already too much?"

"Oh god," Peter murmured to himself. He couldn't imagine taking more but he needed to. He had to. "No, keep going."

Quentin resumed pushing his cock deeper inside Peter, forcing Peter's body to take it.

Just when Peter thought that maybe it was too much, Quentin leveled out, letting out a guttural groan as he did so.

"Fuck," Quentin cursed with a snarl. He then pulled back and began rolling his hips, cock sliding in and out.

Peter grasped out to hold on to the couch as his breaths fell thick and fast, unable to hold back his moans.

"Oh fuck," he gasped. The sensation was unbelievable.

"Feels good?" Quentin asked, a smugness in his voice.

Peter gave a trembling hum in agreement. Quentin thrust in harder, making Peter cry out. He set a rougher pace, fucking into Peter hard.

"Oh god, so good - please don't stop, please, fuck, Quentin -"

His raised his head upwards and cried out more, Quentin hitting just the right spot. He couldn't stop swearing, couldn't stop the desperate cries clawing their way out of him.

"More," Peter gasped.

A breathless chuckle came from Quentin. "Not enough for you, Peter? Getting fucked like a slut?"

"Please," Peter begged.

Quentin grabbed Peter by the hair and pulled him back, pushing himself deeper inside Peter's ass and fucking hard and fast. Peter's mind grew hazy, overwhelmed by Quentin's huge cock relentlessly pounding into him.

Behind him he could hear Quentin swearing, a steady stream of 'fuck' interspersed with Peter's name, their bodies meeting in a loud sound of flesh slapping against flesh.

Quentin let go of Peter's hair. He draped himself over Peter's back and tilted Peter's head back, growling and grunting into Peter's ear with each harsh thrust. Peter could hear every sound, every hitch of breath, and it was like Quentin's cock was getting even deeper.

"You're so tight," Quentin gritted out, "perfect fucking cocksleeve."

Peter whimpered. His cock twitched at his words.

"Do you like that?" Quentin said breathlessly, "being my - cocksleeve - _fuck_ -"

"Quentin," Peter whined. God, he was so wet, he could feel his precome ooze, sticky against his throbbing cock. He wanted it, if it was Quentin's cock, he wanted to be fucked and fucked until he couldn't move.

"Please," he panted, "want to be - want -"

"Say it," Quentin gritted out.

"I want to be your cocksleeve," Peter said in a rush, the embarrassment shading his face but nowhere near overshadowing just how fucking good it felt.

"Peter."

Quentin gave a few harsh grunts, his thrusts becoming more erratic. Peter realised he was going to come, going to come inside of him -

Quentin growled as he came loud and hard, letting loose a few animalistic groans as he spilling deep inside Peter. He pulled out soon after, and once he had Peter turned himself onto his back and began to jerk himself off. His toes clenched and a high-pitched moan erupted from his throat with such force it hurt, spurts of come shot from his cock, landing over his abdomen.

Peter fell back, laying limp and trying to catch his breath. Bit by bit he came down from his high.

Reality set in and something sunk inside his chest.

"Oh shit," Peter said slowly, sitting up.

Quentin was already in the middle of redressing himself. He didn't so much as glance at Peter as he did up his belt. 

"Fuck," Peter swore. "We shouldn't have - I shouldn't have..."

Peter tried to rise but stumbled.

"It's fine," Quentin said evenly. "He won't find out."

"That's easy for you to say," Peter bit back. "I'll have to pretend..."

He didn't finish his thought. How could he pretend nothing had happened? He couldn't let Tony know. It was a one time thing, so it was fine, he just had to deal with the crippling guilt grasping at his heart with talon-like claws, eating him away with every breath.

Peter stared into the distance, ignoring Quentin as he considered his options.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Peter," Quentin said, now fully dressed and straightening his jacket. "And perhaps after work...?"

Peter scoffed. "Look, I said...some things, but that was just, you know, in the heat of the moment, and this should definitely not happen again. Ever. Okay?"

Quentin nodded. "Sorry. I see your point."

Peter returned the nod. "Good. So that's settled."

***

But it did happen again. And then again. It became an unfortunate habit that Peter tried to kick but Quentin knew his weakness, knew how much Peter loved his cock, and guilt followed Peter around like a shadow.

He loved Tony, he really did, and maybe he overcompensated a little. Maybe he was a bit kinder, a bit more enthusiastic in the bedroom - because Peter wasn't any less interested in sex with Tony. With Quentin it was animalistic, heated, easily done with. With Tony it was intimate, intuitive, and calculated without being predictable. If he had to give up one over the other, he'd get rid of Quentin in a heartbeat...but while he was yet to have to make that choice, Peter couldn't quite manage it.

***

Peter was over at Tony’s penthouse. The whole affair with Quentin had been going on for a couple of weeks. It was shoved to the back of Peter's mind as he straddled Tony’s lap on the couch. Peter was already hard and grinding eagerly against Tony’s crotch. Their lips moved together, unrushed yet impassioned, and Peter hummed into it as he held onto Tony’s shoulders. They broke to catch their breaths, Peter leaning his head forward to rest against Tony’s, a small smile forming on his face.

"You're still horny, huh," Tony said quietly near Peter's ear.

Peter pulled away. He tilted his head and gave Tony a curious look. This was the first they'd seen of each other that day and Peter couldn't remember mentioning being horny in any call or text message.

"What do you mean?"

"Thought you'd be a bit less eager. You know..." Tony drew his arm behind Peter and gently pushed him forward until Tony’s head was beside Peter's, close enough so Tony could whisper, "...after spending time with Quentin."

Peter froze. His entire body tensed. Tony eased him backwards, leaving Peter looking into Tony’s eyes. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. A tidal wave of guilt crashed over him because _oh shit, he'd hurt Tony, how could he have done something so stupid, what the fuck was wrong with him, he loved Tony, he loved_ -

"I'm sorry," he blurted out pathetically.

His vision grew blurry and Peter only realised why when a tear slid down his cheek.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Tony. I don't know why I - please, please, don't be mad."

Tony’s face stayed stolid and unreadable.

"It didn't mean anything. I swear, I...I'm sorry."

"Yeah. Of course you are," Tony muttered sarcastically.

Panic seized Peter's chest. He felt like he couldn't breathe.

"Please, Tony, I don't even care about him. He's...He's just some guy. He doesn't matter."

"That's all it takes? Some guy, who just happens to have a huge dick?"

Peter sat dumbly. He didn't have a rejoinder.

"Alright." Tony gently urged Peter off his lap and got to his feet.

He stood tall, hands in his pockets and giving Peter a cold stare.

"You say you're sorry, but are you willing to prove it to me?"

"Yes," Peter said without a moment's hesitation. "Whatever you want."

"Take off your clothes," Tony responded immediately.

Peter's eyebrows raised by a hairpin. "What?"

"You heard me. Take off your clothes."

Peter nodded. He trusted Tony and this wasn't the first time he'd asked Peter to do this after Peter had screwed up. 

He got up and took off his clothes until he stood naked in the middle of Tony’s lounge. He shifted awkwardly.

"Turn around."

Peter obeyed, turning away from Tony. Tony guided Peter's behind Peter's back. Soft fabric encircled his wrists and with a flourish, were tied securely.

"Get on you knees by the couch. Rest your head on the cushion."

Peter's heart sped up, wondering what Tony was planning. He got to his knees and laid his head down, trying to find a comfortable position.

Tony moved behind him. He spread Peter's ass cheeks and pressed his finger against Peter's entrance.

"Still pretty loose."

Peter whimpered as a flash of shame ran through him. He tried to figure out how Tony even knew that he'd been with Quentin that day.

"He's right, you know," Tony commented while his fingers, now slick with lube, fingered Peter open, "you really are a slut."

Peter shivered, biting back a moan.

"Yeah, I've seen the security footage. I mean, you know you've been fucking him in my building, right? Are you that stupid, or did you actually want me to see?"

"N-no," Peter gasped as Tony reached deeper, switch the angle and brushing against Peter's prostate, "I didn't - I just c-couldn't -"

"Resist?" Tony pressed hard at just the right spot and Peter let out a small cry. "You could have just asked. You think I wouldn't be interested in seeing you fucked so hard you could barely walk?"

"T-Tony -"

His brain was only just starting to process what Tony was saying, and he was struggling to make sense of it. A normal person wouldn't want to see their boyfriend fucked, right?

Fuck. Of course. Tony wasn't a normal person.

"But you cheated, so I'm going to have to punish you."

"What?"

Tony removed his fingers. What replaced them was what felt like a dildo, slipping further and further inside of him until it stopped, reaching the end with a plug.

"Tony?"

He heard Tony get to his feet. Peter then let out a sound of surprise. The butt plug had started vibrating.

At first it was pleasant and titillating. Then Tony increased the vibration, and then increased it further. Peter gasped and moaned, wriggling at the sudden intensity.

"Tony - _ah_ -"

Peter tensed his jaw, then released with a sharp exhale. He fought against the binds on his wrists, as though it might help, and shifted from knee to knee.

"Prove to me that you're sorry. An hour's good, right?"

"An hour?" Peter repeated incredulously.

The vibrations stepped up in frequency again. Peter cried out. It was so much, it was too much, his cock throbbed as he shook and gasped for air.

"You can do that, right?"

Peter paused to get his breathing under control. He could do this for Tony. He didn't have to, but he wanted Tony to know he was serious. 

"Yes," he replied before falling back into a series of whimpers and whines.

Tony left - nearby enough for Peter to still hear him, or for Peter to say he'd had enough. Peter knew this was just one way to make it up to Tony, but if it was Tony's preferred way, he wanted to do it.

"Fuck," he whispered harshly into the cushion.

He couldn't get his body under control, couldn't stop himself from making noise. He was probably only ten minutes in when he started crying into the couch cushion and rocking his hips forward pointlessly. He needed friction, he needed something. He cried out in frustration, but stopped himself from calling out for Tony. This was Peter's fault. Maybe Tony didn’t act like it, but he was hurt. Peter had been unfaithful, whichever way he chose to look at it.

Peter didn't know how long it had been - it could have been five minutes, it could have been thirty - when Tony returned.

"You thinking about what you've done, sweetheart?" Tony asked, petting Peter's hair while Peter whined.

"I'm sorry," Peter croaked, "I'm really - _fuck fuck fuck_ -"

His back arched and he cried out. He pressed his face down into the cushion and screwed up his face, breathing heavy. Thighs tensing, he clenched his teeth and let out something similar to a hiss that ended in a sob.

"Please," Peter rasped out, "please, I need to - god, fuck, please -"

"No coming, baby," Tony responded gently.

Peter stamped his knees in frustration.

"It's a punishment, right?" Tony brushed his hand along Peter's cheek.

"I'm sorry," Peter eked out. "I'm - really -"

He cried out again.

"It's okay, not much longer. Just ten more minutes."

Peter lifted his head with a gasp. He couldn't do that. Ten more minutes. He didn't feel like he could do one more, with his body going mad, overloaded, overwhelmed.

Tony disappeared from Peter's field of vision. Peter opened his mouth to speak when he felt the plug move inside him. Tony was playing with it, fiddling with the stopper and shifting its position.

"Tony, please," Peter protested.

"You let him do what he wanted with you. So why can't I?"

"Because -"

Peter couldn't find a reason. He whined and cried, eyes sore from crying and cheeks wet from tears.

Tony moved the plug, pressing it directly to Peter's prostate. He upped the speed of the vibrator one last time and Peter practically screamed, tears flowing down his cheeks. It was so much that he couldn't think, and his whole body alternated between tensing and trembling.

"Just one more minute," Tony said in a calm, gentle voice.

Peter's pleas reached fever pitch, but he could barely register what he was saying. He just took and took until eventually, Tony switched off the vibrator. Peter collapsed, still crying.

"You did good, baby," Tony said as he removed the butt plug.

Peter whimpered, a sense of relief filling him but also a sense of loss.

"I'm sorry," Peter slurred.

Tony didn't respond as he unravelled the restraints on Peter's wrists. He helped Peter up onto his feet and down onto the couch. Exhaustion clouded Peter's mind but his cock throbbed insistently. 

"Tony," Peter softly said. He looked at him, hoping his eyes somehow communicated how bad he felt, how sorry he was, in a way words never could.

"You did good," Tony repeated.

Peter frowned. "Are you…okay?"

Tony’s lips twitched into a brief smile. He rubbed Peter's sweaty forehead with his thumb affectionately and wiped away his tears. His touch lingered. 

"You still don't get to come."

Peter whine of frustration. In the end he was too exhausted to protest. He let his head fall back, resting. He closed his eyes and found himself unwilling to open them again. He drifted easily to sleep. 

***

The next morning Peter's body still ached. Sitting up, he rubbed the back of his neck and hopped to his feet. Finding a pair of boxers, he put them on and exited the room.

In the kitchen Tony sat drinking a cup of coffee. His gaze lifted from the Starkpad in front of him as Peter approached. Uneasiness and guilt settled in Peter's chest. 

"Morning," Peter said, a little nervously. He kept walking towards the kitchen bench when Tony called for him to stop. Peter turned and looked at Tony expectantly, hoping he wasn't angry - or at least not too angry.

Tony put the pad on the table. He sat back in his chair.

"We should talk." 

"Okay." 

Swallowing thickly, Peter stepped closer and slid carefully into the chair opposite. A tense silence fell that Peter itched to fill. He was about to open his mouth when Tony finally spoke. 

"I know that this whole Quentin thing was just you being extra horny - and I get it, his dick is huge - but…I want you to be honest with me."

Peter's heart sank at the flash of vulnerability in Tony’s eyes. He opened his mouth, but not before Tony continued to speak.

"If you want to fuck someone, tell me first. Ask me." Tony sighed and his eyes darted to the side for a moment, ducking down before raising to meet Peter's once more. "I don't like the idea that you could have kept this up - that I wouldn't find out until later on."

"I'm sorry. I know I keep saying that. I just didn't think, and I know that sounds really bad, like I did know it was wrong, but I didn't really think it'd…matter as much." Peter's brow furrowed as he looked down at his hands on the table. He picked at the nails nervously.

"But I know now," he stated, "and I'll stop. I'll tell him today. And then next time - uh, if there is a next time - I'll tell you. I promise."

Peter reached out his hand along the table. Tony looked at it, then up at Peter, before placing his hand on top of Peter's. Peter smiled. He gripped Tony’s hand. Tony withdrew his hand and straightened up in his seat. Clearing his throat, he picked up the Stark pad once more.

Peter got up. A burden had been lifted from his shoulders and he lightly stepped towards the kitchen to make his morning coffee.


End file.
